


how do i live with your ghost?

by cooliohoolio



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, FAHC Au, GTA AU, M/M, also does it technically count as ofc if i didnt make wendy IDK, my interpretation of neverland ryan's backstory, not actually mavinwood but i put it because its related to neverland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooliohoolio/pseuds/cooliohoolio
Summary: He hadn’t even gotten to kiss her one last time.





	how do i live with your ghost?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Neverland](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147577) by [whalehuntingboyfriends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends). 



> non-canonical (cause i would hate to impose on somebody else's au) interpretation of ryan's backstory in whalehuntingboyfriend's neverland
> 
> aka i got far too invested in wendy and ryan's relationship and wanted to write about it
> 
> title comes from the only thing-sufjan stevens
> 
> ALSO ITS PROBABLY SHIT IM SORRY

The first night without Wendy, Ryan considered killing himself. 

He sat in their shared hotel room--  _ all of her stuff sitting on the dresser, her side of the bed still a mess --  _ sat on their bed, and considered ending it all right then and there. 

How else was he supposed to go on? They had  _ grown up together _ \-- it had never just been Ryan, always WendyandRyan. She had always been by his  _ side and now she was gone and there was no point in going on any longer.  _  Ryan felt as if someone had reached into his chest and tore his heart out, some crucial, important part of himself had been stolen and left a gaping, bloody hole in its wake. 

_ What is my life worth living without her?  _ He thought, feeling the hot tears begin to run down his face once again (they’d never really stopped, not since he’d watched the life leave her beautiful green eyes) and his breath began to come out in sobs and it was just all too much. 

Her words before they had left the hotel room reverberated in his head.

_ Save it for later.  _

He hadn’t even gotten to kiss her one last time.

\--

“I haven’t been to Savannah since I was  little,” Ryan mused, hand intertwined with Wendy’s as they sat on the grassy bank of the river. A bounty had lead them down here, but he had been dealt with quickly enough and they figured that there was no reason to hurry back so soon. 

Wendy glanced over at him, a small smile on her face. “Neither have I,” She said, leaning head up against Ryan’s shoulder, “I always used to love watching the boats go by when I was younger.” Her eyes drifted back over to the river, the lights of River Street reflected in her bright green eyes. 

He felt affection swell in his chest as he watched her look out over the river-- she was so beautiful like this, content and peaceful as the sat underneath the stars. She was also beautiful when they were both covered in blood, adrenaline buzzing below the surface of their skin, but this was different, somehow. She looked younger now, freckled face illuminated by the lights across the river. 

“What are you staring at?” Wendy teased, turning around to face Ryan and poke his shoulder, “Do I have something on my face?” 

“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am,” Ryan told her earnestly, something far too fond in his voice. Wendy paused, her wide grin falling into a smaller, more genuine smile. 

“Oh, you’re a big sap,” She said, but the teasing in her voice was gone. She was watching Ryan with an affectionate expression on her face, and Ryan couldn’t help but reach out and pull her forward into a kiss. 

Her lips met Ryan’s gently-- kissing Wendy was slow, and soft, something familiar and comfortable about it. Despite how long they had been together, kissing her still made his heart flutter, just like it had when he had first fallen in love with her as a teenager. 

He felt Wendy smile against his mouth before she pulled back, her long, ginger hair falling around her face as she looking at Ryan with a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“We should go on one of those ghost tours they have down here,” She said, apropos of nothing.

“You were thinking about ghosts while we were kissing?” He asked, chuckling in amusement, “Really?”

“ _ Maybe _ ,” Wendy smiled again, laughing along with him, “But seriously, it seems like fun!” 

Ryan rolled his eyes, but there was no malice in it. “You believe in ghosts?” He tilted his head, curious.

“Sure, why not?” 

“It doesn't seem very plausible,” He shrugged, “Just seems like a way for people to make money off of tourists in old cities like this.” 

“You’re so cynical, Ry,” She faux-pouted, “I like to imagine that life continues on after death. Don't you?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan grabbed Wendy’s hand, squeezing gently as their fingers interlocked, “I just have a hard time believing that there’s anything that happens after we die. I think that ghosts, and the concept of heaven and all of that is just a way for people to cope with the loss of their loved ones. Like, ‘oh, they’re still with us’ or ‘they’re in a better place’” 

“That’s pessimistic.” 

“ _ I’m  _ pessimistic,” Ryan said, and Wendy smiled at him, before leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. 

“That’s alright,” She whispered, big green eyes staring up at him,”You’re  _ my  _ pessimist. I love you.” 

Ryan ran his hand through her silky red hair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I love you too.”

\--

Ryan couldn’t sleep at all for the first couple of days after she died. 

He could hardly blink, because every time he closed his eyes he saw her wide, green eyes-- she had been so  _ scared _ and there wasn’t anything he could do about it, and then suddenly her lovely, beautiful ivy eyes were blank and cold and there was blood running down her face--

He didn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep. 

She haunted him. Everywhere Ryan went, every corner he turned, he expected her to suddenly materialize in front of him, like this had all been a horrible nightmare and he was going to wake up and she’d be there to kiss him good morning again. 

But this was a nightmare he would never awake from--the unbearable sorrow within him never subsided for a moment, followed him like some sort of monstrous beast constantly eating away at him. Ryan felt as if he was rotting away on the inside, the grief wasting away within in his chest. 

Every day he went on without her felt like swallowing broken glass.

\--

Wendy was kissing him as soon as the got into their apartment, something desperate and frantic in the way she pushed Ryan up against the the wall and ran her hands through his loose hair. She tasted like blood and gunpowder, and Ryan could practically feel the adrenaline rushing through both of their veins at that moment. 

“That was too close,” she mumbled against Ryan’s lips as they fell against the bed, “The mark almost killed you, Ryan-- I was so scared, I thought you he was going to  _ kill you _ \--” She sounded hysterical, and Ryan pulled away from the kiss to run a hand down her cheek. 

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that,” He tried calming her, but she looked far too close to tears at that moment, “I’m okay, I’m still here. It’s okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and Wendy pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his chest. 

“I know that, Ryan, but…” Her voice was muffled, but Ryan could hear it crack with barely held back tears, “I don’t know what I would do without you. Losing you is my biggest fear.”

“Mine too,” He whispered, trying to offer comfort in the form of holding her close, “But I’m okay, Wendy. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

She pulled back from the hug, and Ryan could see tears running down her freckled face. He wiped them away gently with his thumb, and she half-sobbed out a humorless laugh. 

“I got tears on your shirt,” She murmured, voice quiet, and Ryan couldn’t help but give her a small smile. 

“It’s alright, dear,” He said, interlocking their fingers together. Wendy held onto his hand tight, like if she let go Ryan would disappear. 

“Please don’t ever leave me,” She whispered, tears threatening to overflow once again as she leaned forward to rest her head on Ryan’s chest.

“I won’t,” Ryan promised, taking the hair band out of Wendy’s messy braid so that her hair could fall loose against her petite shoulders, “I’m not going anywhere.”

\--

When Ryan first became the Vagabond, he cut his hair. 

He took a job that brought him out of state, to a random city where he had never been before-- he would’ve gone anywhere but within Georgia. He was a coward, running away from his home, what had been  _ their home,  _ because every place in the goddamn state reminded him of  _ her _ . They had been together so long that everywhere seemed to contain some memory of Wendy. 

So he left. 

He was here, in a hotel room in a city that he had no connection too. Information on the mark he was hunting was scattered across the desk, and as he stared at it he felt something within him harden. 

He felt the deep, cutting anguish sharpen into something angry and vengeful, something both cold and furious. In that moment, he decided to start anew. He would no longer  _ care _ , because that what got him into this whole mess to begin with, right?

He would hunt down and kill those he was hired to with a frigid indifference-- inflicting the pain he felt within himself onto others because maybe, just  _ maybe _ , if someone else felt the suffering he did every waking moment of his life, it would fill the void within him. 

Ryan lifted himself off of the bed and walked into the bathroom, freezing when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like a corpse, pale and gaunt with bags under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises. His hair hung loose behind him, long enough to go just past his shoulders. 

An irrational anger swelled up within him, and he turned and left the bathroom to grab his knife where it laid atop the desk. He returned to the mirror, quickly pulled his hair back into a tight ponytail, and then brought his knife down. He watched as long strands of hair fell onto the counter around him. 

It was choppy and poorly-done, but as Ryan let his knife clatter into the sink and stared at himself, he felt his breathing hitch. His hair now only came down to his ears, and it wasn’t exactly cathartic, but it felt… right. 

He was no longer Wendy’s Ryan. 

He was the Vagabond. 


End file.
